Page 77 of Rose
“Trim the sail,” Jack shouted over the wind. “Quickly, before we’re spotted.”
Rory seized the line and began carrying out Jack’s order.
Quinn grabbed the rails of their small vessel. “What is a ship that size doing so close to Colonsay? The nearest trade port is on Skye.”
Rory whirled around. “Is it a war ship? Do ye think we’ve been discovered?”
“It does not bear King Edward’s colors,” Jack observed. “’Tis a cog. It could be a merchant ship.”
“Or bounty hunters,” Rory warned.
“Quinn,” Alec said. “Ye know merchant ships better than any of us. How large is the crew for a ship that size?”
A great wave rocked their small vessel, but each man absorbed the motion in their stances.
“As few as ten but it can carry as many as thirty men,” Quinn answered.
Thunder roared around them. Then, suddenly, the sky erupted as rain battered down upon their heads.
“Jack, our ship is too small to weather this storm. The waves will tear her apart,” Quinn warned. “We must drift beyond its reach.”
“Nay,” Jack snapped. “Not until we take a closer look and find out who sails so close to our hideaway. Lads,” he cried, “take up yer oars.”
Battling mighty waves, they rowed closer to the cog. Water poured over the sides faster than they could bail it out.
Lightning flashed and in the fleeting brilliance, Quinn read the ship’s name. “’Tis the Messenger. I know this ship. She’s a merchant vessel owned by Owen Thatcher. He and his son are reputed to be good men.”
“They must just be passing through,” Rory said. “Mayhap, the storm brought them too close to shore.”
“Wait,” Alec shouted. “Look to the forecastle.”
The oar nearly slipped from Jack’s fingers, when his gaze settled on a slim woman with long, wet curls. A tall man, who he assumed was the captain, was walking toward her.
“’Tis Rose,” Alec cried. “I’m certain of it.”
Just as the words left Alec’s lips, the captain reached for Rose and tossed her over his shoulder. Fury surged through Jack as he watched her struggle against the man’s grasp.
“He’s taken her below deck,” Jack bellowed. “Row, lads. We’ve got a ship to board.”
~ * ~
“Rose, may I admit something,” Elizabeth said in the darkness as she gripped tightly to Rose’s arm. The ship rocked hard, thrusting them against the wall. Rose groaned and rubbed the emerging bump on her head.
“What is on yer mind?” she asked, mirroring Elizabeth’s casual tone. Shouts of the crew reached their ears. The wind screamed. Thunder roared. The waves pounded the hull.
“I’m terrified,” Elizabeth admitted in a calm voice that belied her confession.
Rose squeezed her hand. “Do not fash yerself. The Messenger is a fine ship.”
“But fine ships sink, too,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“That is true,” Rose replied.
“But…But,” Elizabeth stammered, losing all control. “I don’t want to be locked away in this tiny prison if it does.”
Rose lifted her shoulders, despite knowing the darkness would obscure her gesture. “That is precisely why I told yer brother to sod off.”
“I wish I had told him to sod off, too. We might have managed to shut him away in here, if we had fought him off together.”
